


Ideals

by fuzipenguin



Series: Half Your Age +7 [19]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Older!Twins, Other, Twincest, younger!ratchet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 05:08:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16190726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin
Summary: They all have a role to play.





	Ideals

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous said: If you don't mind taking prompts maybe a young!ratch and older!twins a time where they had to save ratchet or a first kiss scenario?

               There had been explosions going off on the base for the past five minutes. The air was filled with dust and the building’s walls shook around him. All Ratchet could do was protect his head and pray the ceiling didn’t come down on him

                After a bit, the explosions ceased, although the building continued to creak and groan. Then there was a lot of shouting and yelling, gunfire and running pedesteps. The commotion got closer and louder until the door to his cell block burst open and a body went flying.

                After a second glance, Ratchet realized it was the medium-sized, black and brown tankformer who had been his guard for the past two days. He landed fifty feet down the walkway, practically at the other end of the block. The mech groaned and feebly rolled over, one of his tank treads flapping.

                “Cuteness! Oh, Cuteness! Where ~are~ you?”

                Ratchet sighed and thunked his forehelm against the cold metal bars.

                “I’m in here!” he called out, although he had half a mind to stay silent and let them pass by. There was no way that Sideswipe and Sunstreaker on their own could have caused this much ruckus. Surely someone else would be by to rescue him. Someone who wouldn’t berate him for being careless like he was sure the twins would.

                “My love!”

                Sideswipe waltzed through the door and stuck a pose just in front of it. Ratchet assumed Sideswipe thought it heroic, but the spray of Energon and other suspicious fluids coating his body detracted from it a little.

                Sunstreaker pushed past his brother, gun held at the ready as he surveyed the room, empty other than the twins, Ratchet, and the Decepticon guard who seemed pretty unsteady, even just on his knees.

                “Well? Aren’t you going to say that you’re happy to see us?” Sideswipe prompted after a moment of silence. Ratchet merely raised an orbital ridge and Sideswipe huffed, slumping out of his pose.

                “Well, we’re glad to see you. And did you know we freed nine other Autobots before we found you? Half of them had been presumed dead,” Sideswipe announced matter-of-factly. “So Command can suck an exhaust pipe for trying to nix this excursion.”

                “What? What are you talking about?”

                “They didn’t want to look for you or the others. Too high a risk,” Sunstreaker added brusquely. He stalked down the walkway, looking into each cell that he passed. Sideswipe followed, coming to a stop in front of Ratchet’s cell and examining the lock.

                “Oh. That’s… well…”

                He was just a rookie combat medic. And the other two he had been captured with had just been grunts. He supposed it made sense.

                But it still hurt he was thought so little of. At least to the higher command structure. To others…

                “Bet you’re a little happier to see us now, huh?” Sideswipe asked, finally just shooting off the locking mechanism to Ratchet’s cell. As Sideswipe yanked open the door, Ratchet heard another shot echo in the small room and he whipped his head to the side to watch Sunstreaker walk away from the now very still body of the Decepticon guard.

                “What… you… did you kill him?!” Ratchet exclaimed, voice going a little shrill.

                Sunstreaker froze, a confused look on his face. “Uh… yes?”

                “You… you… I just fixed him!!” Ratchet slid past Sideswipe and stomped towards Sunstreaker, trying to peer around him.

                Sunstreaker put a hand out, warding him off. “You _fixed_ him? Why would you fix a Decepticon?!”

                “Because he was injured!” Ratchet retorted hotly.

                “No, that’s… that’s not how this works,” Sunstreaker said, waving his gun through the air with a little shake. “You’re still kinda new, so let me explain it to you: we kill them. They kill us. That’s it. It’s simple, really.”

                Ratchet stared at Sunstreaker, mouth working furiously for a moment before he exploded. “No! No, it’s not simple! Not for me! I’m a doctor first, _then_ a soldier. My job is to fix mechs, not kill them!”

                “Ours! _Our_ mechs! Autobots!” Sunstreaker shouted, as if Ratchet was deaf. “Not murdering Decepticons!”

                “Murder… murdering…” Ratchet sputtered. “How do you know that? How did you know that he wasn’t just a poor, confused bot who got caught up in things?”

                “Aww, did the two of you have a spark to spark?” Sunstreaker sneered, taking a few steps closer. “Maybe you’d rather stay, if you made such good friends while you were here.”

                Ratchet suddenly wanted to punch the smug look off of Sunstreaker’s stupidly pretty face. “No! My point is that you _don’t_ know! You didn’t ask if he wanted to defect. You just shot him!”

                “Yeah and that’s _my_ job! It’s not to ask, but to take this gun, shove it in their face, and pull the trigger,” Sunstreaker spat, pointing his weapon right at Ratchet. “Frag, what kind of dumb newbie are you, anyway? Haven’t you learned yet that you can’t save everyone?”

                “I can damn well try!” Ratchet shouted, leaping forward in fit of blind rage. He slapped Sunstreaker across the face, although he would have much rather knocked his nasal ridge in. But he had enough presence of mind to not risk damaging the instruments in his hands.

                There was a five second pause of complete and utter silence in which Sunstreaker stared at him, optics narrowing into hard little slits. Ratchet vented heavily, staring back belligerently. Behind him, he heard Sideswipe whisper ‘oh slag’.

                Then Ratchet’s back slammed against the bars, a hand wrapped around his throat. He blinked a few times to clear his staticky visual feed and saw Sunstreaker glowering at him from inches away.

                “With that attitude, you’re going to get yourself killed,” Sunstreaker said lowly. “And next time I won’t be here to rescue you.”

                He released Ratchet with a shove, turned, walked two steps away, and then whipped back around. Ratchet didn’t even have time to flinch before Sunstreaker grabbed the sides of Ratchet’s face and roughly pressed his lips against Ratchet’s. He held them together for a count of five and then drew back, staring at Ratchet.

                Ratchet’s optics crossed as he looked at Sunstreaker’s face from not even an inch away. The frontliner’s expression looked tortured, but a moment later it cleared and he let Ratchet go. He stalked off and this time he didn’t turn back. He just slammed the door behind him as he exited the cell block.

                “I…”

                Ratchet looked over at Sideswipe, who had plastered himself against another cell’s door in an attempt to stay out of his irate twin’s way. Sideswipe was biting his lower lip, looking up at Ratchet almost sheepishly through lowered optic shutters.

                “He _kissed_ me,” Ratchet said, still not certain if that was what actually had happened.

                “Yup. Yup, that he did,” Sideswipe agreed, confirming Ratchet’s perception of the situation.

                “Sunstreaker… _kissed m_ e,” Ratchet repeated, picking up steam. “In what world does getting slapped mean you kiss the person who just slapped you?!”

                “Er…” Sideswipe trailed off awkwardly.

                “What is _wrong_ with your brother?” Ratchet demanded, peeling himself off the bars and facing Sideswipe.

                Sideswipe shrugged unapologetically. “A lot. We’ve got a few screws loose; you might have noticed. But we get by.”

                “’You get by,’” Ratchet repeated, staring flatly at Sideswipe. The frontliner ducked his head, and scuffed the toe of one of his pedes along the decking. He looked like a chastised sparkling, completely at odds with the bristling weapons and splashes of drying bodily fluids.

                “Yeah. Mostly. Did he hurt you?” Sideswipe slowly approached, looking at him warily.

                Ratchet took stock. He was shaken, but didn’t even have a dent or scrape from Sunstreaker’s handling. He slowly shook his head.

                “No.”

                Sideswipe nibbled on his lower lip again before sidling closer. “Don’t… don’t believe what he said. He _would_ care. If something happened to you, that is. He’d care a lot. He threatened our sergeant into letting us come look for you. Then he stole a whole heap of ordinance to blow up this base. We’ll probably be in the brig for weeks after we get back. The point is… he was really worried about you. We both were.”

                “Why?” Ratchet asked, throwing his hands up, practically in tears. His emotional algorithms were running at full speed, but not making any headway. Why had Sunstreaker gone and kissed him? This completely messed up their dynamic!

                “If nothing else, we’re your friends,” Sideswipe softly. “We don’t have many of those, cuz Megatron always seems to keep a running tab and likes to kill them off. So we weren’t going to leave you here for that to happen.”

                “Friends support one another’s ideals,” Ratchet returned, rubbing his hands over his own arms, trying to comfort himself. They also didn’t kiss one another, but he wasn’t going to bring that up.

                “We’ve been at this for a while, Ratchet,” Sideswipe said, completely shocking Ratchet with the use of his given designation. “You’re not on the frontlines like we are; you don’t have to make the same decisions that we do. Sometimes ideals get tossed aside when you’re fighting to survive.”

                Ratchet numbly shook his head. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t do what I thought was right. If a mech is hurt, I’m going to fix him.”  

                Sideswipe shuffled forward, cautiously entering Ratchet’s space as if expecting to be hit at any moment. For some reason, Ratchet didn’t do that or even back away. Ever so slowly, Sideswipe leaned forward and very gently brushed his lips against the center of Ratchet’s forehelm.

                “You wouldn’t be our Cuteness if you didn’t,” Sideswipe replied, smiling sadly as he retreated a few steps. “Come on, sweets. Let’s go home.”

 

~ End


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